The serum was a wonder drug but it wasn't magical. No matter how hard Charles wished for it there was no instant change after the cool burn of the drug flowed into his arm. Intellectually, Charles knew there wouldn't be so the disappointment surprises him.
"It may take a while before you notice any affects." Hank said needlessly. His very human eyes nervously watch Charles, it's one thing to take an experimental drug yourself, quite another to watch a friend.
For once, Charles agrees to do his work in the labs today and not retreat back to the solitude of his study. Hank doesn't get much work done but then again neither does Charles, preoccupied with surreptitiously pinching his thigh. Hank catches him more than once but says nothing and Charles pretends not to notice that Hank times his breaks to coincide with Charles's.
There's no change at lunch.
Nothing by dinner.
Not a trace as the scotch burns his throat in the evening. It's the only thing that softens the voices in his head that have gotten louder as the mansion got emptier.
Except –
Maybe? Was that a ghost of a sensation, a remnant of pins and needles at the top of thigh? Charles massages the muscle, harder and harder, searching for sensation. And it's so fleeting and faint he can't be sure it's not his imagination or the alcohol.
So he lies when Hank asks before he heads so bed.
He'd rather feel Hank's disappointment than false hope.
##################
The next day passes much like the first, except there can be no doubting it anymore, he can feel. His legs are slowly reawakening and its painful, pins and needles all over his skin. It's a welcome distraction and Charles won't let himself reach for the painkillers.
He's so focused on his returning sensation he doesn't notice how much quieter it is in the house.
That night he lies to Hank again.
Pins and needles and being able to feel the fabric of his trousers doesn't mean he can walk and Charles wants to keep this for himself for now.
Charles sleeps through the night, without the nightmares of a hundred different voices stirring him.
##################
When Charles wakes the next morning he feels, refreshed, rejuvenated and more alive than he has for a long while. The wonders of a good night's sleep he thinks as he realises his night was uninterrupted for once.
Charles sits up, pushes his covers away and runs his hands down his legs with his eyes shut. He feels his hands all the way down to his little toe. He smiles, and then laughs as he manages an awkward wiggle of his toes. He can move!
He twists himself so he's sitting at the edge of the best and takes a deep breath before pushing up to stand. He can feel the muscles engage, can actually feel them flex and tense, but they're so weak and atrophied that he crashes straight to the ground. It's obvious that would happen and Charles feels so foolish, he hopes that Hank didn't hear–
"Charles! What happened? Are you okay?" Hank bursts through his door.
"I'm fine, I'm absolutely fine." Charles reassures him. Then he starts laughing. What was he thinking? Trying to stand after his foot merely twitched? It's so stupid it's funny. But now Hank's looking at him as though he's concerned for his sanity so—
"Look! Look!"
Charles wiggles his foot. And then Hank's laughing too.
"Charles! That's fantastic!"
Charles laughs so hard, tears are streaming down his face.
##################
Half an hour later in the kitchen, between one mouthful of toast and the next, Charles realises he is sober. He is sober and there is nothing. Not one voice. He can't hear anyone else's pain, fears or grief. He has nothing but his own in his head.
He tries to find Hank's familiar mind but when he reaches for his powers he can't find it.
His powers are gone.
He's relieved. It should probably scare him; even panic him but all he feels is a rush of relief.
Charles knows he should tell Hank about this. This definitely counts as a side-effect. Not to mention, he is as much a scientist as Hank and this should be documented. But he has worked with the man for years and can imagine with crystal clarity his reaction and outcome. He'd make Charles stop.
The voices would come back.
His legs would go.
Charles feels he's earnt a reprieve and he's still so very tired.
##################
The decision is taken out of Charles's hands when Hank mentally calls out to Charles from another room and is annoyed when he has to go hunt him down instead. Charles's face and a lack of a good cover story give him away and finally Hank knows.
"Charles. We should stop the trial, just for a while at least, analyse the data we've collected, run some tests. I'm sure there's a way..." Hank breaks off as Charles adamantly shakes his head.
"No. I don't – I need this Hank, just for a while."
Charles is ready to plead his case but instead Hank offers him a small smile and says okay before leaving the room, shutting the door softly.
Charles stares at the closed door. He's underestimated his friend again, after all, if anyone would understand wanting to break free from their powers its Hank.
##################
Charles spends the whole of the next day in the lab with Hank. He agrees to further tests and enthusiastically looks at Hank's physical therapy schedule that he already had planned out and waiting because for Hank it was only going to be a matter of when not if he got the serum to work.
Charles doesn't go to his study after dinner; instead he stays with Hank and only drinks a couple of glasses of scotch as they debate a recent journal article in Nature.
Hank's smiling and there's a spark of something in his eyes that Charles realises has been missing for a while.
He knows Hank hoped that if he fixed Charles's legs he'd fix Charles.
Charles thinks he might be right.
##################
This started with the thought 'I wonder what happened when they realised the serum affected Charles's abilities' and was supposed to be just a drabble to dip my toes in the X-Men fandom and play around with the characters but it grew into this ficlet.
I hope I'm not too rusty and you enjoyed it. :)